The Hand-Me-Down Family (3 page)

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Pardon?”

“At what time did your brother die?” She heard the shrillness of her tone, saw his brow go up. No doubt he thought her hysterical. But right now she didn't care.

He lifted a hand, palm up. “I don't know. I wasn't here. I only—”

“Do you have any idea?” she pressed. “Morning? Afternoon? Please, this is important.” Her heart beat with a dull thumping as she waited for his response. A few hours one way or the other could make all the difference in the world.

The thing was, she didn't really know what answer she wanted to hear.

He scratched his chin. “Virgil did mention the café was nearly empty because it was after lunch…”

“I see.” She sagged back in her seat, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

Help me to see Your will in this, Father. Because right now, all I feel is confused and adrift
.

“And just why does the time matter so much?” Jack asked, interrupting her silent prayer.

Callie dug in her handbag and pulled out a packet of papers. She stared at them for a moment, then held them out to him. “Because, as you'll see if you look through these documents, your brother and I were married by proxy four days ago. At exactly ten o'clock in the morning.”

She gave him a humorless smile. “Which means, since the ceremony occurred before the fire, I am indeed a widow without ever having met my husband.”

A
s he took the papers from her, Callie closed her eyes, trying to absorb the fact that she had become a widow without ever knowing what it meant to be a wife. Yes, it was true that Leland had meant this to be a marriage in name only, but she had secretly hoped that, given time…

Stop it!
Callie gave herself a mental shake. She should be mourning the man, not the end of some foolish daydream.

More to the point was the fact that she no longer had a reason to be here.

Had she come all this way for nothing?

Heavenly Father, I thought this was Your answer to my prayers. But was I too impulsive yet again? Was this mere wishful thinking on my part rather than Your intent for me? Please, help me understand what it is You want me to do now.

The sound of rustling papers drew her attention back to her companion.

He leaned forward, pinning her with that intense gaze again.

Her skin prickled. Even though they were out in the open rather than closed up in a stagecoach, being alone with him suddenly felt much more dangerous than it had earlier.

“So tell me,” he asked, “how did this proxy marriage of yours come about?”

She bristled at his suspicious tone, forgetting her previous discomfort. Then she softened as guilt washed over her.

How could she sit here feeling sorry for herself while he dealt with such pain? He might seem gruff and overbearing, but how could she blame him? He'd lost his family less than a week ago, and now he was confronted with a sister-in-law he hadn't realized existed until just a few moments ago.

At the very least he deserved an explanation, something to help him make sense of the situation.

No matter how humbling it might be for her to tell him the story.

“Your brother was in need of someone to help raise his daughter,” she said evenly. “And I wished to find a husband and household of my own. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

“As for why we did it by proxy…” She shrugged. “My family wouldn't hear of my leaving Ohio without ironclad assurances that the wedding would actually take place, and this seemed the best solution.”

His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn't identify. “Forgive my bluntness, ma'am, but why you? I mean, you just admitted the two of you never met. And, unless things around here have changed more than I realized, I'm sure Lanny could have found a local girl more than willing to marry him and help raise Annabeth.”

She gave the edge of her bonnet a little tug. He was treading on uncomfortable territory. “Your brother is—was—a good-hearted, God-fearing man. He was very open about the fact that he wasn't looking for, nor could he offer, a love match.” She brushed at an imaginary speck on her skirt. “He loved Julia very much and was certain he would never feel
the same about another woman. I understood and accepted that.”

Callie titled her chin up as she met her inquisitor's gaze. “I think he found it easier to say those things in a letter, and to someone he hadn't grown up with.”

At his raised brow, she looked down at her clasped hands. “Besides which, as I said, your brother was a very kindhearted man. He knew I would receive his offer in the same spirit in which it was given, and as the possible answer to a long-standing prayer of my own.”

He handed the papers back to her. “Ma'am, you just raised a whole wagonload more questions than you answered with that statement.”

His tone had lost some of its belligerent edge. He seemed to be leaving it up to her as to whether she continued her story or not.

And his consideration lifted some of her reluctance to explain. “So ask your questions.”

“It sounds like, in spite of what you said a moment ago, you and my brother knew each other.”

“Knew
of
each other would be more accurate.” She tucked her marriage papers back in her purse. “Through Julia.”

He made a small movement of surprise. “You knew Julia?”

Callie nodded. “Yes. Her family lived next door to mine when we were children. We were best friends, closer than sisters, and almost inseparable. It was one of the saddest days of my life when I learned they were packing up and moving to Texas. She and I kept in touch after that through letters.” She smiled. “Julia wrote the most wonderful letters. I feel like I already know the people and the town here.”

He sat up straighter. “Wait a minute. You said your name was Callista. You're Callie.”

Her brow furrowed at his abrupt statement. “Yes.”

“Julia talked about you all the time when she first moved here. Really looked forward to getting them letters from you, too.”

Her smile softened. “As I said, we were close. Even after she moved here, I always felt I could confide anything to her. Julia was that kind of friend.”

He rubbed his chin. “So that's how my brother knew so much about you.”

She nodded. “Once Julia was married, she shared some of the things from my letters with her husband. She asked first, of course, and I didn't mind. And naturally her letters to me were sprinkled with references to him.”

“Naturally.”

She wondered at his dry tone, but continued with her story. “Julia assured me she and Leland often included me in their prayers, a consideration I cherished. It also let me know that Leland was familiar with both my dreams and my situation.”

“Situation?”

Callie took a deep breath and loosened the strings to her bonnet.

This was it.

Time to get it all out in the open. How would he react? Would he be as understanding as his brother? “Yes, my situation. The reason why I'm nearly twenty-six years old and unmarried. The reason why I always wear this stuffy bonnet when I'm in public. The reason why I would probably have remained a spinster the rest of my days if your brother hadn't made his generous offer.”

Slowly she pushed the confining bonnet back until it hung loose behind her neck. She'd thought she was past feeling self-conscious. She shouldn't care what this man thought of her appearance, but somehow she did.

She lifted her head and waited for his inevitable reaction.

 

Jack watched her remove her bonnet and got his first good look at her face. He wasn't sure what he'd expected after her dramatic lead-in, but it wasn't this.

While not beautiful, she was passably fair, pretty even, at least in profile. Her hair was sandstone brown and her green eyes were brighter now that they could more fully reflect the sunlight. She had a small crook in her nose, but that added interest to her appearance rather than detracted from it.

So what was this “situation” she'd mentioned? “I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't—”

Then she turned to him and he stopped cold. He winced before he could stop himself.

Along the left side of her face, from mid-cheek to hairline, her skin was stained by a palm-sized blotchy patch of a deep red color. It was difficult to see past such disfigurement to the pleasant picture she'd presented a few seconds ago.

Her gaze drilled into his, allowing him to look his fill, waiting for him to say something.

But he had no idea what to say.

She finally turned away, presenting him with her unblemished profile again. Her shoulders drooped slightly, but she gave no other sign that she'd noted his reaction.

“So now you know.” Her voice was steady and surprisingly unemotional as she reached back and pulled her close-fitting bonnet up once more. “Your brother understood what he was taking on by marrying me. And he also understood why I would see his offer as a welcome opportunity to finally have a family of my own.”

Her acceptance of his unguarded reaction made him feel like a complete oaf, like the worst kind of mannerless fool. “I—”

She raised a hand, palm out. “There's no need to say
anything, Mr. Tyler.” She faced him fully again, her smile perhaps a little too bright. “I assure you I'm quite accustomed to such first-time reactions.”

It was good of her to give him an out, but his momma raised him better than that. “Look, ma'am, I'm sorry I was so rude. You caught me by surprise, is all. And, well, I don't believe in fancy speeches or anything, but I want you to know I admire you for agreeing to my brother's scheme and coming out here on your own the way you did. I'm sure it wasn't an easy decision.”

At least the whole situation made more sense now. It was exactly the kind of grand gesture Lanny would make.

Her smile warmed a bit. “You'd be surprised.” Then she brushed at her skirt. “Now, if you don't mind, I think I'm ready to pay my respects to my—our—family.”

Jack recognized her desire to change the subject. “Agreed.” He helped her rise, then offered his arm as they made their way across the churchyard.

Once through the cemetery entrance, he led her around the inside perimeter, past the graves of his parents, to three freshly turned mounds with markers. Nell and Jed rested side by side, and Lanny was buried a few yards away, next to Julia's grave.

Jack stopped in front of Nell's grave while his companion trudged the last few steps to Lanny and Julia's resting places.

Somewhere nearby a blue jay squawked his displeasure. A heartbeat later Jack caught a flash of movement as a squirrel raced down the trunk of a nearby pecan tree.

Other than that, everything was hushed, still.

He frowned at the half dozen or so pink roses someone had placed on his sister's grave. That wasn't right. Daisies were Nell's favorite flower.

The memories pelted him, one after the other, piercing
him with their clarity, battering his attempts to hold them at bay.

He could see his little sister, skipping along the fence row, pigtails bouncing, picking armloads of the yellow blooms. Then she'd sit under the oak tree in their yard and make braids and crowns and other little girl treasures for hours on end.

Ah, Nell, I'm so sorry I didn't come home sooner like you kept after me to. You always warned me I'd be sorry I waited so long, and as usual, you were right.

He twisted his hat brim in his hands.

I'll find you some daisies tomorrow, I promise. Bunches of them.

A leaf drifted on the breeze and landed on the grassless mound. Jack stared at it as if memorizing the nuances of color and the tracery of its veins were vital.

About those young'uns of yours. You know I don't know anything about being a father. And they sure deserve a lot better than me. But I swear to you, whatever happens, I'll do my level best to see that they're taken care of proper.

He wasn't sure if mere seconds or several minutes passed before he finally looked up and took his bearings again.

The woman, Callie—easier to think of her as Julia's friend than Leland's wife—stood between the markers that served as Lanny and Julia's headstones with her head bowed and her eyes closed.

Was she feeling faint?

Or praying?

As if she felt his gaze, she looked up and drew in a deep breath, then let it go on a sigh. Jack joined her and stared silently at his brother's grave.

Lanny, the big brother who was good at just about everything he attempted, who could be bossier than the day was
long, but who bent over backwards to lend a hand where it was needed.

Regret threaded itself through Jack's feeling of loss. Why hadn't he come here sooner, made peace with Lanny, offered him the apology he deserved?

Now he would never have that chance….

Movement drew his gaze to Julia's grave. He watched as a butterfly, its wings the same deep blue that Julia's eyes had been, landed briefly on her marker, then fluttered toward them. It rested momentarily on Callie's bonnet before drifting away on the breeze.

When he looked back, he found her watching him. He straightened and shoved his hat back on his head. “Ready?”

She nodded and took the arm he offered. Their silence was companionable this time, all of the tension that had been there when they marched through town earlier having evaporated.

He was surprised to realize how glad he was that she'd been here these past few minutes. Somehow it felt right to have her share this graveside visit, to mourn alongside him for a few moments over their mutual loss.

“Those poor little ones,” she said softly. “They must be so confused and frightened by what's happened.”

The mention of the children brought back his earlier worries. Was he up to the job of playing nursemaid to three confused and frightened young'uns?

“Who's been looking out for them since the accident?” she asked.

“Mrs. Mayweather.” At her questioning look, he elaborated. “Sweetgum's schoolteacher. She offered to take them in until I could get here.”

“How kind of her. Does she have children of her own?”